Page 44 of A Flaming Lady's Secret Valentine
“That does not explain why your ear was pressed against my keyhole.”
“I suppose it does not.”
Raphael had cast off his jacket and cravat. Cecilia took the full measure of his appearance. His hair was tousled, as though he had been tossing and turning, and he was not wearing shoes. She had not thought about Raphael’s feet before, and she smiled at his socks.
“Stop that,” he ordered with a laugh. He ambled to the breakfast table in the corner. “Cecilia, you really should not be here. If any of your family were to catch us alone together, they would turn me out and send you to a convent.”
“You are right. I know you are right.” She turned to leave, but something caught her eye on the table. “You broughtHamletwith you.”
“I did.”
“That is not the same edition as the one from the lending library.”
“It is not.”
“You boughtHamlet, then.”
“When I knew we were returning to Norwich, I had to.”
“You had to?”
“Of course.” He paused. “I need to brush up on the text before I take you to the theatre when next we are in London.”
“Oh,” was all Cecilia could manage. No one had said anything sweeter to her in her life. “When have you planned this for us?”
“We can go whenever you like.”
“I am free on the morrow.”
He cocked his head, offering a boyish smile. “That does not work for me.”
“Perhaps next season?” she suggested.
“Unless you are married by then.”
His reply had been innocent and yet completely destructive. Cecilia’s smile dropped, and she averted her gaze.
“That was insensitive of me,” Raphael said.
“Mayhap, but it was also true.” Cecilia tried to smile to reassure him, but she knew he could see right through it. “You must know I have no desire to marry the Earl of Radcliff. Would that I could…” She stopped herself. If she revealed the truth of her heart to Raphael, there would be no coming back from it.
“Do not say it. It is all right. Some things are better left unsaid.”
Cecilia turned for the door. If she looked at him a moment longer, she would throw herself into his arms. She turned the doorknob, but the door did not budge. She yanked it again, shaking it.
Raphael stepped behind her. He snaked an arm around hers, standing so close she could feel his warm breath filtering through her hair and sweeping over the skin of her neck. He brushed her hand away, replacing it with his own.
“Like this,” he whispered, pressing his thumb into the latch on the handle and unlocking the door for her.
She stepped back to avoid the door, and her back collided with his chest. Something greater than her need to escape overwhelmed her, anchoring her to the spot. Slowly, she cradled his hand in hers and pressed the door back shut.
Almost immediately, Raphael’s hands came up around her. He pressed her into him, one hand on her stomach, the other grazing her hip.
“Open it again or lock it,” he commanded, swaying her gently in his hold.
She could not name the feeling that possessed her, some primal call for him. Like she would die without him. Like nothing existed outside of them anyway.
She locked the door.
